


What to Do When An Idgit Breaks Into Your House

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in Season Five. Bobby is not into Crowley. Nope. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What to Do When An Idgit Breaks Into Your House

Bobby walks into his kitchen and sees something unusual. Well, for some people, he supposes, it would be unusual. Some people would find if quite ordinary. Some people would smile and say "that's so sweet" and go about their day. Bobby however, does not think that it's sweet. He does not smile and he certainly does not find it to be ordinary. Because really--really--how did Crowley manage to get through all his salt lines and leave him a box of Ghirardelli chocolates?

***

"First off," Bobby says into the phone, "Crowley is a liar, you idgit." He can hear Dean pulling the phone away from his ear to laugh harder. "He lied to me Dean. He told me we had to use tongue. And now that bastard is giving me chocolates."

"Bobby," Dean says, still laughing, "he likes you."

"Oh come on!" Bobby grumbles. "The son of a bitch is using me--" Dean starts cracking up and Bobby's pretty sure that he hears the sound of Dean slapping his knee. "Oh, CAN IT, Dean." He hangs up. "Stupid good for nothing Winchester boys."

Bobby turns around to retreat back into his living room, but the chocolates automatically catch his eye. He sighs and picks them up by the corner, as if they're diseased. There's a note attached to the top of the box in nice neat handwriting: "Call me." As if, Bobby thinks and sits the chocolates down. "Stupid demons, sending men poisoned chocolates."

"They're not poisoned," a voice says and Bobby doesn't even bother to whirl around in shock and throw the stash of holy water he has tucked in a drawer near his hand. Instead, he rolls his eyes. 

"Crowley," he says as he slowly turns, "what are you doing here?"

Crowley just leans in the doorway and smiles. "Oh, I knew you wouldn't call, you coy thing you."

Bobby frowns deeply, but that doesn't seem to put Crowley off. Instead, he seems to put him on. "What a cute chin," Crowley says and grins at him.

"How'd you get past the salt lines?" Bobby asks. It might as well do to learn something useful while he's being sexual harassed.

"My little secret," Crowley says and preens.

"Well, aren't you full of yourself," Bobby says and stalks off to the living room. Crowley follows. Bobby sits down and looks at Crowley. Crowley smiles disturbingly back. Bobby refuses to be the one to break the silence, but Crowley seems content to just stare at him. "WHAT?" Bobby finally grinds out.

"Nothing," Crowley says and shrugs, "It's just you could use a shave. But somehow I find your grizzly ways endearing."

"You're a menace," Bobby says, "and I need a drink."

"Let me pour it for you."

"No, you'll poison it."

"Now why would I do that? I plan to have my mouth in your mouth in about five minutes and unlike most demons, I prefer to take good care of my vessel. We must keep up appearances, you know."

"Crowley, why are you here?" Bobby asks, hoping that addressing the issue head on will get Crowley out of his house.

"Why, I loved your tongue so much, I thought I'd come back for more."

Bobby frowns again. "And what makes you think that I want you to come back."

Crowley looks up at the ceiling and shrugs. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Oh, well, because you haven't thrown salt or holy water at me and because you haven't tried to corner me in one of the--what is it now? Three?--demon traps in the room?"

Bobby grumbles. "Well, I guess you've got a point."

"Of course I have a point! You want me."

"I do not."

"You do too."

"I do not!"

"You do too!"

"I do not, you idgit!" Bobby yells.

Crowley laughs. "You only call people 'idgits' if you like them."

"I do not."

"Ah, honey," Crowley says and he puts his hands on the armrests of Bobby's chair, "you do." He grins and then does the unthinkable. He leans forward and eskimo kisses Bobby. Bobby's mouth hangs open, aghast. "It's so funny!" Crowley continues, "how all those other stupid demons think they can shock people with that old blood and gore act. This," he grins and lightly kisses Bobby's lips, "is far more fun."

"You're...a menace." Bobby says and tries to keep his heart rate down.

"A menace? Or an idgit?"

"Both," Bobby says defiantly, "and a son of a bitch."

"My mother was a saint!" Crowley says, but grins.

"Bastard," Bobby continues. "Bitch. Harlot." He raises his eyebrows in challenge.

"Harlot?" Crowley says and raises his eyebrows as well. "That's better. Continue."

"Whore." Bobby says. "Mongrel. Idgit-slut."

Crowley laughs. "Idgit-slut? Oh, honey, I think you deserve a kiss for that one." Crowley kisses him full on. Bobby responds automatically and kisses back. Crowley smiles against his lips. "Oh that's a lot better. You know what I think we should do?"

"What?" Bobby asks and he chastises himself for sounding like a schoolgirl.

"We should use that new improved instrument of yours." Crowley grins and looks at Bobby's lap. Bobby blushes. "And don't pretend," Crowley continues, "that you haven't notices that extra...amendment that I added to our contract." Crowley licks his lips and grins. Bobby tries to frown, but instead he ends up grinning back.


End file.
